Win at first, lost at Last: Or, A New Game at Cards:
Wherein the King recovered his Crown, and Traytors lost their
Heads. To the Tune of, Ye Gallants that delight to play.
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YE merry hearts that love to play
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At Cards, see who hath won the day,
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You that once did sadly sing,
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The Knave o'th Clubs hath won the King:
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Now more happy times ye have,
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The King hath overcome the Knave;
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The King hath overcome the Knave.
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Not long ago a game was play'd,
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When three Crowns at the stake was lay'd,
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England had no cause to boast,
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Knaves won that which Kings had lost:
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Coaches gave the way to Carts,
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And Clubs were better Cards then Hearts, etc.
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Old Noll was the Knave o'th Clubs,
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And Dad of such as preach in Tubs:
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Bradshaw, Ireton, and Pride,
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Were three other Knaves beside:
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And they playd with half the Pack,
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Throwing out all Cards but Black, etc.
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But the just Fates threw these four out,
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Which made the Loyal Party shout,
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The Pope would fain have had the Stock,
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And with these Cards have whip'd his Dock,
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But soon the Devil these Cards snatches,
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To dip in Brimstone and make matches;
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To dip, etc.
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But still the sport for to maintain,
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Lambert, Haslerige, and Vain,
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And one-ey'd Hewson took their places,
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Knaves were better Cards then Aces,
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But Fleetwood he himself did save,
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Because he was more Fool then Knave, etc.
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Cromwel, though he so much had won,
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Yet he had an unlucky Son:
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He sits still and not regards,
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Whilst cunning Gamesters sets the Cards,
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And thus alas, poor silly Dick;
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He playd a while but lost the Trick, etc.
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The Rumpers that had won whole Towns,
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The spoils of Martyrs and of Crowns:
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Were not contented but grew rough,
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As though they had not won enough,
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They kept the Cards still in their hands,
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To play for Tithes and Colledge Lands,
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To play, etc.
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The Presbyters began to fret,
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That they were like to loose the set,
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Unto the Rump they did appeal,
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And said it was their turns to deal,
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Then dealt the Presbyterians, but,
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The Army swear that they will cut,
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The Army swear that they will cut.
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THe Forreign Lands began to wonder,
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To see what gallants we liv'd under,
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That they that Christmas did forswear,
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Should follow Gameing all the Year,
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Nay more which was the strangest thing,
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To play so long without a King,
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To play so long without a King.
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The bold Phanaticks present were,
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Like butlers with their boxes there:
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Not doubting but that every Game
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Some profit would redound to them:
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Because they were the Gamesters Minions,
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And every day broacht new Opinions, etc.
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But Cheshire Men (as stories say)
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Began to shew them Gamesters play:
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Brave Booth and all his Army strives
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To save the stakes or lose their Lives:
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But Oh sad Fate they were undone,
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By playing of their Cards too soon, etc.
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Thus all the while a Club was trump,
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There's none could ever beat the Rump;
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Until a noble General came,
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And gave the Cheaters a clear slam:
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His finger did out wit their noddy,
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And screwd up poor Jack Lambarts body, etc.
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Then Haslleride began to scowl
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And said the General plaid foul:
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Look to him partners, for I tell ye,
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This Monk has got a King in's belly:
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Not so quoth Monk, but I believe
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Sir Arthur has a Knave in's sleeve, etc.
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When General Monk did understand
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The Rump were peeping into's hand:
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He wisely kept his Cards from sight,
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Which put the Rump into a fright:
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He saw how many were betray'd
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That shew'd their Cards before they play'd, etc.
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At length quoth he, some Cards we lack,
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I will not play with half a pack.
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What you cast out I will bring in,
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And a new Game we will begin:
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With that the standers by did say,
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They never yet saw fairer play, etc.
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But presently this Game was past,
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And for a second Knaves were cast,
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All new Cards, not stain'd with spots,
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As was the Rumpers and the Scots:
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Here good Gamesters plaid their parts,
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They turn'd up the King of Hearts, etc.
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After this Game was done I think
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The Standers by had come to drink:
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And the Loyal Subjects sing,
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Farewel Knaves and welcome King:
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For till we saw the King return'd,
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We wish'd the Cards had all been burn'd;
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We wish'd the Cards had all been burn'd.
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